The Things She Wanted to Be
by IlluminatedM
Summary: During her first trip to Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, Hermione allows herself to reflect on the accomplishments of the Weasley Twins. They had truly accomplished their dreams and become the people they wanted to be, but what of her? Would she ever truly be what she had always hoped to be, or are her dreams just too far off the path she's destined to follow?


**This was completed for **OTP Boot Camp Challenge. **It is for prompt #2 "Agitated", and the pairing that I decided upon was this one. **

**This is a one-shot, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy it!**

**All my love,**

**M.**

* * *

Taking in the sights and sounds around her, Hermione found herself amazed. It was her first time inside the walls of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and she hadn't expected this level of extravagance. It was a beautiful sight to behold indeed, and she felt her admiration for the Weasley Twins grow. They had truly made a name for themselves, and it had been such a short time since they opened the shop; all of their hard work had paid off before her very eyes, and she was proud to say that she knew the men behind the name.

On every table, there was a new wonder to be seen, a new beauty for the eyes to behold. From Puking Pastries to Love Liquor, Hermione was certain that you could find any gag imaginable within this store, and anything that wasn't already out was probably well on its way to being made. She could see children racing around, filling their arms with random items as they went, and almost everyone she knew was doing the same; even Molly Weasley was impressed. And how could she not be? Her sons were the talk of every wizarding news column this week, and every shopper in the Alley was in this store right now.

Still, Hermione could not bring herself to the same childish state that the people around her seemed to be in; it simply wasn't in her nature. Yes, she was amazed - astounded, even - but this wasn't the type of place that Hermione associated herself with. She felt almost obligated to disapprove, despite the obvious genius that was the store before her. They boys had, after all, refused to complete their education in an outlandish display of insubordination just months ago. How were they supposed to realize that they had made a mistake if nobody was there to tell them so? It certainly didn't seem as though the Weasley family was about to show any kind of corrective discipline, so she figured that her silent disapproval was necessary.

The logical part of Hermione's brain shut down for a moment, however, and she allowed herself to admit that she was indeed quite impressed. There was so much traffic within the store that she was certain The Twins would pay Harry back by the end of the week, perhaps even the end of the day, and she knew that they were following their hearts. That alone gave her a certain level of appreciation for the environment that she was currently in. It was something that she would never be able to do, and she had to admire them for making a path of their own.

She knew that she, however, would march forward on the same straight line that she found herself on now. She would stand beside Harry through every trial and battle that came, she would marry Ron once he got over his teenaged hormones, and she would work at the Ministry for the rest of her uneventful life, occasionally popping out a red haired child, as was expected of her. These were not the things that she wanted – not at all, in fact – but her dreams no longer mattered. Harry needed her, Ron needed her, and she needed them; if this straight line was the only way that she could truly fulfill that obligation, then she would march the line like it was the only thing she had ever wanted, and she would stand beside her best friends with pride for the rest of her life.

As the colorful Singing Bubbles floated past her face, though, she allowed herself to consider her own dreams for just a moment, wandering the tables beside her as she did. She had once, as a Muggle girl, wanted to be a writer; she had wanted to create the beauty that she so adored as a child. After entering the Wizarding world, she had immediately wanted to be an Auror. As a child who had seen enough of the world of combat as it was, she had wanted to be a Healer. Now, she knew she would be none of those things. She would, instead, be a soldier and a survivor; the face of the Muggleborn world, perhaps.

These thoughts had Hermione lost in her own world, which was a rather dangerous place to be whilst within a shop like this, and it wasn't too long before her fingers brushed against a rough piece of metal that dragged her back into reality. She turned her face to inspect what her hand had made contact with, and before she knew it she was clutching her left eye, gasping in pain and shock alike. She gripped the display on her other side, attempting to hold her balance, and dared a glance up at the offending device. Before her, she found nothing more than a harmless looking telescope, still perched nicely on its display with a red warning label in front of it clearly stating "Seek the Assistance of the Staff Before Use".

Feeling sufficiently humiliated, Hermione attempted to continue onward without further embarrassment. Her eye, from what she could tell, was beginning to swell already, and she didn't really fancy another injury before she made it to the bookstore. Careful not to touch anything, Hermione made her way to the front of the shop where she found George manning the cash register. She considered speaking to him for a moment, but she decided it might be best to wait against the wall for Harry and Ron. She knew that they'd have their arms full by the time that they returned, so she expected she'd be there for some time, but she didn't mind. At least she couldn't be injured while standing against a plain wall.

"Hermione!" She heard someone shout from behind her.

Looking up the stairs, she saw none other than the now-famous Fred Weasley leaning against the railing with a bewildered smile upon his face. In return, she smiled back and hoped that he would be far too distracted with the store to stop and tease her.

The thought was quickly torn away as he asked, "What happened to your eye, Hermione?"

The sincere concern within his tone had her slightly taken aback, but she was far too agitated to let that affect her angry reply.

"Your punching telescope," she bitterly responded, bringing a hand up to cover the dark bruise that was now taking up a good portion of her face.

He gave her a small, apologetic smile and said, "Oh, blimey! I forgot about those. Here."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small container that held a purple paste within it. Hermione recognized the scent as Bruise Salve, but the color was a bit off. She was immediately skeptical of its effects, and she was most certainly not about to be a new test subject for Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. She inspected it for a moment, trying to guess what could have been done to it, but she was no Potions Master, and she could not tell based off of sight alone.

"It's safe, isn't it?" She inquired, her skeptism and concern spelled out clearly in her voice.

Fred seemed taken aback at first, almost shocked that she would even ask such a thing, before he threw his head back and laughed aloud. The sound was a delight to Hermione's ears, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. She didn't intend to, of course, but he'd somehow made her do it anyway. He had a way of doing that to her, she knew, and she tried to remind herself that she was still rather angry that a bloody _telescope _had assaulted her.

"Of course it is." He told her, dipping his fingers into the jar and reaching towards her.

Gently, in a way that she had not expected whatsoever, he touched his salve-coated fingertips to her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he carefully massaged the treatment into her skin. She allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his skin against her for a moment, relishing in the comfort of his touch. She felt better already, and she wasn't quite sure how that was. It was just another thing that he of doing to her, she supposed.

"We added a bit more peppermint to it," he told her, pulling her from her trance-like state as his fingers left her face, "Bruise'll be gone within the hour."

Embarrassed that she had reacted so strongly to such a simple touch, Hermione murmured her thanks with her eyes on her feet as she turned to leave him. She was certain that, by now, he knew of her feelings, but he had said nothing of them, and she would not detour from the path she had to follow. She could not.

Still, she felt the warmness on her cheek where his fingers had brushed across her skin, and she felt almost lighter inside. Her face was still red, and her heart was beating wildly, but she kept her feet moving, one in front of the other, until she reached the exit. The boys could find her outside just as easily as they could if she remained where she had been, she was certain, and she was in desperate need of fresh air. However, just as the sole of her shoe touched the threshold, she paused for a moment and allowed herself to remember something else that she had once wanted to be.

She had wanted to be a Weasley, but she had never wanted to be Ron's.


End file.
